


Comfort Zone

by Evilsnowswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:36:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnowswan/pseuds/Evilsnowswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 3x19.<br/>After the showdown with Zelena and the birth of her sibling, Emma reaches breaking point. Regina is there to comfort her.<br/>One-shot.<br/>F/F.<br/>Regina’s POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Zone

**Author's Note:**

> ###### Writing Soundtrack: 
> 
> _Keane – My shadow_   
>  _Maroon 5 – Wipe your tears_   
> 

# Comfort Zone 

Where would she go? You walk down the main road, shivering a little in your red dress. It’s dark, except for the street lamps. The town roads are deserted. People are surely either asleep or at the hospital. Storybrooke is eerily still and quiet. You strain for sound, but there is only silence pressing in on your ears. Silence, plus the sound of your own heels on the wet pavement. It must’ve rained earlier. The night air feels cold on your skin, but you left your coat at the hospital serving as a blanket for little Roland, who had fallen asleep on a chair. You smile a little to yourself. Maybe it was due to not having your heart to weigh you down, but you feel oddly light and calm and … _happy_. The thought alone makes you a little dizzy. You had almost forgotten how it felt to be genuinely happy. Things were good. Not perfect - there was still the impending danger from your deranged sister - but good. Henry remembered. He remembered you now and he truly loved you, too. Despite your mistakes and bad choices. He loved you still. As his mother. It had felt so good to catch up and laugh with him before he and Emma had left for the cemetery. He had grown so much.  
You wrap your arms around yourself as you turn a corner. Where was she? 

You had checked Mary-Margaret’s, Granny’s, your own house and office, the vault, Archie’s and even the beach by now. Maybe she was with the idiot pirate, but given that the two had been arguing when you left with Robin and Henry, it did not seem very likely. However, the pirate too was nowhere to be found. Emma had left the hospital after Snow’s baby was born. You didn’t even notice at the time, because you were busy casting protection spells to seal off the hospital room from Zelena and her monkey brigade. Now, however, you grow more worried with every step. Why did this take so long? Where was she? Being away from Henry and leaving him and the two idiots and the baby unprotected for this long …  
_alright_ , there were your spells and Granny with her crossbow; Robin and the dwarfs in the hallway and Ruby and the Merry Men outside the hospital patrolling, but _still_. It makes you uneasy. Had it not been for Henry specifically asking you to look for his other Mom, see if she was alright, you would not have left. With both her and you gone everyone was in danger, but how could you deny him this?

You huff and stop to look around. Still nothing. When you will find her, you’ll slap her across that silly face for leaving and making you leave after her. What was she even thinking, leaving your son in danger like this?! Where _the hell_ was she? You try not to think about the pirate, or worse, Zelena. What if she was not after the new baby, but after Emma all along? That makes no sense, because she needs a baby to cast her time travel spell, yet, you cannot help, but feel anxious for the younger blonde. What if something had happened to her?

You have almost reached the town line by now. It is then, that you see it. The stupid car! The little battered yellow bug, standing a few yards from the invisible line. You cuss under your breath. What was the idiot woman doing? Leaving? You speed up your steps then stop again, hesitant.  
From where you are, you peer at the car sitting in semi darkness suspiciously for a moment. Squinting at it in the dark, you can just make out a pair of knees visible through the driver’s side window. You shudder slightly from the breeze, goose bumps on your bare arms and legs. Nights still were pretty cold. Surely, Emma did not intent to camp out in her car again, when nights still got that chilly. What the hell was she doing?! Edging closer carefully, you stop in your tracks again, once you get a clearer view.

The blonde woman is sitting on the passenger seat, knees raised, feet on the driver’s seat. Her back against the door and window, she is hugging her own torso securely. Taking in the savior’s face, you jump a little. Forehead wrinkled, eyes closed, tears are streaming down her porcelain cheeks fast. She doesn’t even notice you. Her pale face is all wet and glistening. Cheeks flushed. Lips pressed tightly together, an almost colorless line. Her eyes are closed, eyelids fluttering. She doesn’t know you are here, right on the other side of the car’s door.

She looks very young. With a jolt you realize that her features remind you of Henry and … of _someone else_. Someone so vulnerable, so hurt. Your expression softens to a sad smile. You can almost feel the hot salty tears and the pieces of straw against your face again. Smell the damp hay and feel the warmth of the horse’s body against yours. You close your eyes for a moment and hear the calm thud of your stallions heart in your memory. You remember the heartache and despair of nights long gone. Nights spent crying in your stallion’s bay. Hidden from view, hiding away from the world. So, Emma was … _hiding_ , was she? Steadying yourself, you take a deep breath, bend down and gently tap the window with your knuckles.

Emma jumps. She quickly runs the back of her hand over her face in an angry motion, when she sees you. After a moment’s hesitation, the blonde scrambles to her knees and unlocks the door for you. Then she retreats to the passenger seat and hugs her knees. You open the door cautiously. “May I?” you ask tentatively, gesturing towards the free seat. Emma just nods. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes little breaths, no doubt trying to compose herself. She seems to be waiting for you to say something, maybe bring some grave news or other, but you are temporarily void of things to say. So you just close the door and sit quietly, your body relaxing to the warmth. Listening to your own calm breathing and her little gasps and sniffles, nothing happens for a little while. Then you gradually shift in your seat to face Emma. She is not looking back at you, just staring out the windshield and down the dark road ahead.  
She can’t even look at me, you ponder. Gingerly, you reach for her, but unsure, let your hand waiver a few inches from Emma’s left knee.  
“Are you okay?” you ask softly. Your voice is very warm and full of concern for the younger woman. Emma shrinks back into her seat at this, her knee brushing against you hand in the motion accidentally. Yet she still does not look at you. She merely shrugs.

“Is it because of Henry?” you ask carefully. She just shakes her head dejectedly in reply.  
“The baby?”  
“No.” She sounds very hoarse.  
“Then what is it?”  
“Nothing.”

You look at her pale face and red puffy eyes. “Now it’s you who is lying, Miss Swan” you state simply.  
She looks at you then, but her eyes see right through you. She sighs.

“Yeah, no, maybe. It’s just … ever since New York … no, ever since … EVERYTHING …”  
The blonde stops herself and shakes her head, like a dog ridding his ears of water. “Forget it.”

Half intrigued, half worried you tilt your head to the right and flip back your hair in a swift motion.  
“Is this about … _the pirate?_ ” you cannot keep a note of dislike and irritation out of your voice. Why was that nuisance of a … _person_ even still here?! Wherever he may be right now, anyway. What good had he done so far?!

Emma’s answer to this is a dry laugh. She’s rubbing her left eye in frustration, smudging her mascara even more. Her face is flushed and tear-stained and you get the fleeting impulse to hug her, wrap her up in a blanket and hand her some cocoa. 

“No, seriously. I’ve never seen you like this.” you muse, giving her a small smile.  
Emma helplessly gestures with her hands. “Fine. Maybe it is about Henry and the stupid book and Neal and my …” she struggles around the word “… parents … The baby.” She shrugs once more. “… and maybe about the fact that around here things never stay good!” Her voice quavers “everyone’s just … SO HAPPY all of a sudden. But here’s the thing, Zelena is still out there and shit is going to go down .. and I just … I can’t sit there and … “ She throws up her hands, exasperated.  
Little white sparks dance on her palms and fly from her fingertips.

 

“Careful, dear.” you caution, tentatively taking her hands into yours.  
“You don’t want to blow both of us up right now.”, you wink.  
She looks at you at this, eyes wide. Then stares down at her own hands in yours, startled.  
“Remember magic comes from emotion.”  
Her fingers twitch in yours, but she does not pull away.  
Her hands are soft and very warm, but that doesn’t bother you. In fact, the warmth feels rather nice on your own cold hands.  
“Oh.” She exclaims tonelessly, voice brittle.  
She draws in a sharp breath and bites her lip. Then slowly but surely her face crumples. Fresh tears fall from the rims of her bright green eyes onto your joined hands. She tries to blink them away, furiously, but fails.

“Emma …” you try to make your voice very soothing and soft, half breathing half cooing her name.  
Her hands feel red-hot and you do not need to look down to know why. Instead you keep your gaze fixed on the younger woman sitting next to you.  
“Look at me.” You coax, giving her hands a quick reassuring squeeze.

Watery green finds golden brown for a brief moment, but then Emma breaks eye contact with you again and bows her head. Tears are still falling freely. She tries to withdraw her hands, struggling a little against your grip.  
You don’t let go. Your grip remains gentle, but firm.  
She looks back up at you, startled, finding your eyes once more. “Regina, I …” Her voice catches.  
She looks so fragile and small, nothing like when you first met her. She does not look like the savior or a person with powerful white magic inside of her.  
She looks confused and lost and hurt and you want to help, despite yourself. But how?  
“It’s okay. You don’t have to … pretend for me. Things are going to be o-…” you try to reassure her, but she cuts you off, suddenly yelling.

 

“How is any of this OKAY, Regina?!” she bawls, glaring.  
Her expression is fierce now, her eyes hard and burning with indignation.  
You recoil a little from her anger, taken aback by the sudden change in her, but you do not break eye contact nor let go of her hands.

“Bloody hell! Let go!” she snarls. You don’t oblige. She huffs irritably and makes impatient little noises. Hadn’t she been so upset, you would have found her behavior quite amusing.  
“This is crap! I never wanted … I never asked for … I’m just sick of … the magic … the people …!”  
Her expression reminds you of the savior’s mother. Of her face when you ran after her that fateful night. She was her mother’s child after all. 

Emma pauses, breathing fast. She still scowls at you, her brows furrowed. Maybe she is waiting for you to say something or yell back at her, but you keep your cool instead and remain silent.  
Patience could sometimes prove to be a virtue – even if it wasn’t your strong suit.  
Emma struggles to get her hands free again, but you still won’t relent.  
You can see the blonde is getting even more furious with every fruitless attempt to break contact.  
She starts to remind you of a cornered wild animal and, sure enough, she’s back at offense in no time.  
“… and YOU!” she shrieks.  
You look at her curiously, face open.  
“What is THIS supposed to be?!” she spits. “You being all _nice_ all of a sudden … I am so SICK of people pulling this shit. You know what happens? Next time I look, you all turn round and lie to my face and leave and…”

“I am not lying to you, Miss Swan.” You interject with sincerity in your voice.

“I KNOW that you are not lying to me NOW. I can tell with you. That does not HELP, because you still WILL and when that happens … then I’ll …” her voice gives out again.  
You wince at this. Not so much at what she’s saying, although it hurts too, but at the pain from your hands blistering from the white heat. She’s trembling and shaking you with her.  
“I don’t get it. I JUST DON’T GET IT!” she exclaims.  
“I CARE, you know, and here’s the thing- once this is all over … we all get back to what we were… you won’t need my stupid magic anymore… and you won’t need me in Henry’s life anymore and … HOW CAN I TRUST YOU like this?! EVER?!”

You purse your lips. What the hell! So this was what it all came down to? Back at battling for Henry? Back at blaming you for EVERYTHING?! You had proven that you were on her damn side now, had you not? Saving Henry, saving Snow. And yet here the two of you were, back at square one. Why did you even bother?! You feel the anger boiling up inside you fast. WHAT MORE did people want from you!? You had said that you were sorry, you had fought alongside them, you had thrown yourself in front of them to protect them with your life. Would it never be ENOUGH?!  
You return the savior’s fierce glare now, fuming, your hands almost crushing hers. Old feelings of grief, fury and loathing bubble up inside you and you want to rip her head off for all this utter injustice and for the fact that you left your son in the care of the idiots just to go after _her_. _Ungrateful, stupid …_.

Emma winces and pulls out of your grip. Her hands are blistered now, too. She stares at her hands incredulously, glances back at your livid face and …  
_falters._  
She shrinks back into herself, deflating like a dead balloon. She turns away from you again, hands twisting in her lap, lower lip trembling slightly.  
Her head is lowered yet again, curtains of golden hair obscuring her face.  
You exhale, indignant. _What now?!_

“I am sorry.” She whispers in a small voice, almost timidly. You can hardly make out the words.  
You stare at the savior, utterly perplexed. Thrown again.  
Why was it so hard to make sense of her?!  
The infuriating child-person, headstrong pain that she was. _ugh._. You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

 

Emma, back in her curled up position, is weeping into her hands now, trying to stifle her sobs and choking on her own tears.  
Your eyes shoot back open. You gaze at her for a moment, still puzzled.  
Then it dawns on you.  
This isn’t about magic, or Henry, or the baby.  
It’s not about Snow and Charming.  
It isn’t even about you, probably.  
It’s about her. Her being sad, confused, angry and lost and –before this – _quite alone_ , actually.  
Her parents are currently celebrating the arrival of their son; everyone else is guarding the hospital.  
Even the sleazy pirate is not around, wagging his tail stupidly.  
You have not seen him since the fight against Zelena.  
_Zelena_.  
Your thoughts wander to everyone at the hospital, praying that the protection spells will hold.  
When you come to think about it, though, Zelena had been oddly subdued all night.  
No surprise visits, no vendetta.  
She hadn’t been seen after throwing that temper tantrum and poofing out in that horrible purple smoke.

So it all came down to Emma, spending most of her night in her little yellow bug at the town line, alone and crying.  
Hiding.  
You take a deep breath.  
Your expression softens again.  
Carefully, you slide to the edge of your seat and place a hand on Emma’s back, gently stroking to calm her down. Emma does not protest at the touch.  
You pull her towards you and protectively wrap your arms around her trembling body.  
You hold her as closely as possible, her head resting against your chest. The two of you sit like this for quite some time.  
She gasps for air occasionally, then sobs some more.  
You let her cry, now and then making shushing noises and stroking her hair.  
Her hair has the same texture as Henry’s, you think, smiling a little to yourself - and it smells somewhat _flowery_.  
It is a rather odd scent. Not real good, but not bad either. _Snowbell_.

 

Her sobbing ebbs slowly and at first she just lies very still in your arms. You can feel her heart beating fast and her breath is warm on your skin.  
Then her body goes rigid.  
Hastily, she straightens herself up, wipes her eyes quickly and once again retreats to the passenger seat.  
You can tell that she’s flustered and avoiding your gaze.  
What a useless, _adorable_ idiot she was. Sitting there, trying to hide the fact that she’s still hiccupping and blushing furiously.  
Watching her, desperately not looking at you, you did not expect the swooping sensation.  
It hits you out of nowhere as you are studying her _ridiculous_ face.  
The feeling is rather curious, light, warm and fuzzy. It frightens you a little too, due to its sheer intensity.  
You feel the color rising to your cheeks and tell yourself to get a grip, but to no effect whatsoever.  
Your face, too, is burning now and your pulse is through the roof.  
You keep staring at Emma for another few seconds, your lips slightly parted. Then you chuckle softly.

This causes the younger woman to turn her head ever so slightly in your direction, but she is still carefully avoiding eye contact.  
Egged on by the recklessly giddy feeling inside you, you lean closer towards her.  
Affectionately, you cup her face in your hands, brushing a tear away from her cheek with your thumb.  
Her emerald eyes are full of vulnerability, shame and confusion.  
You give her your warmest smile. It is the first smile in a long time that reaches your eyes. It is genuine and wholehearted.  
She blinks, then smiles back shyly. It’s a tiny smile only, but it is honest. Not forced or fake. Not dorky.  
It’s a new kind of smile. One you have never seen on her features before and it is beautiful. She is _beautiful_.

You lock eyes with her. For a split second there is doubt and fear, and you hesitate.  
Then you leap.  
You kiss her tenderly, both hers and your eyes fluttering shut.  
Her lips are smooth, very soft and warm.  
When she kisses you back, there are sparks everywhere.  
Tiny little bright sparks exploding inside your whole body, erupting on your skin, lifting you from the ground.  
Then the kiss breaks.  
The taste of her lips on yours still lingers. You open your eyes slowly, dazed.  
You notice that all the street lamps must have gone out, since only the moon shines through the windows now.  
Your hands are still cupping her face and you can feel her hot breath on your face.  
Smiling lovingly at her, you look deep into her eyes and whisper  
“I will always be here.”  
Then you close the distance once more.


End file.
